


Couch Surfing

by socallmedaisy



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socallmedaisy/pseuds/socallmedaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, so she’s probably not that easy to live with either but all she’s saying is it’s not like she’s ever woken anybody up singing Anything Goes while trying to do the entire tap routine in the living room at 6.30am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Couch Surfing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Pezberry Week over on tumblr. Prompt was 'living together.'

They run into each other at an audition for this off off off Broadway play, a tiny little thing really, but some kind of foot in the door, and when Rachel asks if she wants to go out for coffee after with that same beaming smile she wore all through high school Santana says yes before she realises the word is out of her mouth.

Rachel takes her to some coffee shop near the NYADA buildings and buys her coffee for her, and Santana spends the whole hour sitting there with this kind of buzzing in her ears while Rachel goes on and on about her classes and her teachers and how great everything is, and Santana doesn’t even try to get a word in, just sips at her coffee and nods her head in all the right places when Rachel pauses for her approval.

The truth is she’s so glad to see a friendly face that she doesn’t even care that that face is grinning a megawatt smile and talking a mile a minute about how she was good in the audition but obviously missing something all the theater school kids had and that’s probably why she wouldn’t get a call back. 

She’s not entirely sure how a face can be friendly if it’s insulting her, but.

+

They see each other a month later in the same coffee shop Rachel took her to, and Rachel looks confused for a minute before the smile creeps onto her face.

“Hello Santana,” she says, hovering near her table with some soy whatever in her hand. “May I join you?”

“Whatever, I was in the area,” Santana says, and Rachel takes that for a yes.

+

The coffee thing turns into a bi-weekly and then weekly and then every couple of days thing, and Santana hates to say it but she actually doesn’t mind going the extra couple of subway stops out of her way to meet Rachel after she finishes her classes. 

She’d deny it if anyone asked but Rachel is pretty much the only friend she has in the city, and she has no idea when she became that pathetic, but.

They go to the next audition together, and even though Santana’s pretty sure she fucked it up, she sneaks into the wings and watches Rachel knock her audition song out of the park, until some stage hand ushers her away.

Rachel gets cut in the next round anyway, and when she slams though the stage door Santana’s leaning against the wall waiting for her for no reason at all.

“I’m going to get pizza,” she says when they fall into step side by side.

Rachel glances at her, “Do they have vegan pizza?”

Santana just rolls her eyes because of course they do.

+

The city seems to agree with Rachel. She’s stopped dressing like she’s in some kind of fetish movie and more like an actual human, and she seems to have worked out that she has more legs than a person of her height has any right to and how to use them.

Not that Santana’s noticed or anything. 

Whatever, she’s not blind okay.

+

The first time Rachel gets her coffee without having to ask for her order, Santana stares at it for a long time before she works up the courage to drink it because it feels like they’re about to cross some sort of line.

“Is something wrong?” Rachel asks, staring at her like she’s grown an extra head.

Santana wraps her hand around the coffee cup and shakes her head, just says, “Thanks for the coffee,” before she picks it up and takes a sip.

It tastes just the same as every other cup of coffee they’ve had together, and she’s not entirely sure why she wasn’t expecting it to.

“You’re welcome, Santana.”

+

The first time they go out drinking together, they get so drunk that Santana doesn’t even remember the taxi ride back to her apartment and definitely doesn’t remember the part where she’d said it would be okay for Rachel to sleep on her couch.

She’s spent three and a half months very pointedly not telling Rachel where she lived and only meeting her near NYADA buildings just to avoid the look on Rachel’s face when Santana staggers out of her bedroom.

“Morning,” Rachel says with a bright smile and lets Santana push her feet out of the way so she can sit down.

“How did you get in,” Santana asks, completely serious, and watches the smile fall from Rachel’s face.

“You said I could stay here because it’d be cheaper than getting a cab to my place,” Rachel says quickly, her eyes widening as she realises Santana doesn’t remember.

“Oh,” Santana says, and then sits there for a moment focussing on how to breathe past the pain in her head.

“I could leave if you want me to,” Rachel offers after a moment.

“Do you know how to work the coffee machine?” Santana says instead.

+

She’s not sure how it’s possible but the way Rachel tells it her roommates are the biggest drama queens alive, and since Santana spent three years in a glee club with Rachel and Kurt, that’s saying something. They’re always in some eternal cycle of not talking to each other over this or that part and whatever grades they got that week and even Rachel seems to get tired of it after a while. 

She keeps coming over and hanging around just to avoid them, and Santana wouldn’t mind but what if she wanted to go out and pick some girl up, and had to bring her back to Rachel on the couch in those stupid little shorts she wears whenever they stay in and watch movies?

So sometimes it really is too late to go home, but there’s no reason she can’t leave in the morning even if she doesn’t have a class to get to. She’s just sort of there, and at least if they were actually dating Santana would be getting laid out of this, but instead all she gets is Rachel’s stupid shampoo in the bathroom and odd items of clothing turning up in her laundry.

When she comes home from the dance class she’s started taking to find Rachel on her couch working on some school assignment she walks past her without saying anything, just goes into the kitchen to get a glass of water before coming back and sitting next to her.

“Are you living here now,” Santana asks, and Rachel just laughs and passes her the dvr remote.

+

Rachel shows up on her doorstep with a half empty bottle of tequila saying something about how she would have called but she threw her phone against the wall and it no longer works, and Santana lets her in just out of shock more than anything.

It’s three shots before Rachel admits she broke her cell talking to Finn, and another two before she starts crying these weird furious tears that Santana doesn’t know what to do with.

“I don’t understand why he had to call now when everything was going so well,” Rachel spits out as she rubs at her cheeks and reaches for the tequila bottle again. “He’s so— He’s just so—”

“He’s a dick,” Santana says, which doesn’t even really begin to cover it but Rachel swivels around to look at her like she’s just revealed some kind of absolute truth.

“Yes,” Rachel agrees, and Santana wonders if that’s the shortest sentence she’s ever said in her life.

Later, Rachel falls asleep against her shoulder while they’re watching The Red Shoes on netflix and Santana turns to look at her for a long moment, working hard to make her eyes focus, and brushes a bit of her hair away from her face before she realises what she’s doing.

Rachel’s eyes flutter open to look at her, not really awake, and she smiles happily before trying to move closer.

“I’m not your pillow,” Santana says, a beat later than she maybe should, but she still throws a blanket over her before she retreats to her own bed.

+

She’s not a complete asshole, so when she runs out for groceries she gets a carton of soy milk for Rachel, and then grabs some vegan cinnamon bread from the bakery on the corner on her way back to the apartment, but Rachel still looks like she’s about to cry when Santana nudges the couch to wake her up the morning and asks if she wants cinnamon toast.

“it’s vegan,” she says when Rachel blinks at her.

“You said you hated vegan bread,” Rachel murmurs, pushing herself up against the couch to look at her.

“I didn’t say I was going to eat it,” Santana retorts, and Rachel follows her into the kitchen like she’s never seen her before, and watches her drop the bread into the toaster like it’s some kind of trick.

+

The twentieth or so time Rachel shows up with food—food with actual meat in it for Santana along with whatever vegan thing Rachel has—Santana just sighs and buzzes her in.

“You should just find another place,” Santana says, around a mouthful of pretty decent lasagne, and there’s something about the way Rachel smiles at her that makes her really fucking nervous.

+

Three days later, Rachel shows up on her doorstep again with a holdall full of clothes over her shoulder and her laptop under her arm, and the first thing Santana says is, “No fucking way.”

Rachel just pushes past her and ignores all the reasons Santana gives her for why she can’t stay, and after she drops her stuff by the coffee table she says, “I’ll pay half the rent even if I do have to sleep on the couch.”

It’s not about the money and she knows it, because Santana still has most of the money her mom gave her, but she still narrows her eyes and says, “Three quarters,” anyway.

Rachel laughs and wraps her arms around Santana’s neck and Santana’s so surprised she doesn’t even hug her back. It takes her a second to realise she can feel Rachel’s breasts pressing against her own through the thin material of her sweater and she takes an awkward step back, because she really doesn’t want to deal with that right now.

“Whatever, this isn’t some Hallmark moment,” she says, but Rachel just grins wider and presses her hands to her mouth.

+

The first thing Santana hates about living with Rachel is how she gets up at 6am every day without fail even when she doesn’t have class, and the second thing is how she thinks any moment she isn’t singing is basically a waste. 

If she isn’t woken up by Rachel’s vocal exercises as she bangs around in the kitchen making breakfast then she’s woken up by her singing in the shower louder than the running water which is already carrying through the wall.

Rachel trills, “Good morning!” when Santana staggers into the kitchen looking for a knife to stab her with, and contents herself with pouring a cup of coffee and glaring at her instead.

“I made pancakes,” Rachel says with a little handwave towards the stove, and Santana reaches for them automatically and pulls a fork out of the drawer.

She’s eaten one and a half before she realises that Rachel is still watching her and she swallows quickly before she says, “These are vegan aren’t they.”

“I knew you’d like them if you gave them a try,” Rachel says happily, giving her shoulder a squeeze as she walks behind her and Santana fights the urge to bang her head against the table.

+

Okay, so she’s probably not that easy to live with either but all she’s saying is it’s not like she’s ever woken anybody up singing Anything Goes while trying to do the entire tap routine in the living room at 6.30am.

+

Rachel wakes her up at the weekend and tells her they’re going to buy a futon, and Santana groans and tries to burrow back under the covers, unsure why she has to go with her. She wants to point out that the couch they have now came with the apartment so it’s not like they can get rid of it, and that there really isn’t room for a futon as well, but she guesses she isn’t the one sleeping on the couch, so.

Rachel apparently spent an hour researching the difference between futons and sofa beds before she woke Santana up and she seems intent on telling Santana everything she discovered on the ride across town. Santana just yawns and tries to block her out.

They spend an hour and a half fighting in the store and in the end Santana throws her credit card at Rachel and tells her to get whatever she wants as long as she’s fucking comfortable before leaving and heading back home.

She collapses on the couch and wonders where the fuck they’re going to put it once Rachel buys that giant ass futon she was looking at.

It’s not long before Rachel comes home, and she sits down on the couch next to Santana sheepishly, resting her hands on her knees and staring down at them. “I didn’t buy one,” she says and Santana just looks over at her waiting for her to go on.

“Maybe I should look for another place,” Rachel says hesitantly, still fiddling with her hands, and Santana reaches over to stop her, her fingers closing around Rachel’s for just a second.

+

She’s started to consider Rachel’s singing some sort of warning system for whatever room she’s in, so when she drags herself out of bed in the morning half asleep and doesn’t hear singing coming from the bathroom she pushes the door open without thinking twice and starts when she sees a very naked Rachel climbing out of the shower.

“Santana!” Rachel shrieks, wrapping a towel around herself quickly, and Santana blinks for a moment, her half asleep brain stuck somewhere between Rachel has really nice tits and run.

She’s sitting on the couch still sort of dazed when Rachel comes out fully clothed and says, “Shut up,” before Santana can even say anything.

“I’m sorry,” Santana says, hoping it at least sounds mostly sincere. 

Rachel glares at her, “If you say one negative word about any part of my body—”

Santana holds up her hands to stop her, “Negative? You’ve got great tits and legs that go on for days okay, give me some credit here, I’m not that much of an asshole.” 

There’s a pause while she realises what she’s said, and she’s not sure if she’s imagining it or not, but she thinks Rachel actually looks pleased.

+

Rachel gets the lead in this workshop thing NYADA puts on once a semester, and Santana goes to see her opening night, only she sits in the back so Rachel can’t see her and skips out as soon as the curtain falls because she told Rachel she’d try and make it to one of the later performances and she doesn’t want her to think she was eager to see her or anything.

The fact is, Rachel pretty much kills it, and when she comes and sees her again two days later, she talks one of the lighting guys into letting her go backstage so she can find her and tell her so herself.

Rachel’s talking to two of her co-stars when Santana finds her, but she excuses herself and comes over to her, all big eyes and happy smiles, wearing sweats now instead of her costume.

“I liked the show,” Santana says, and Rachel almost rolls her eyes.

“Thank you, Santana,” she says after a moment and Santana grins at how annoyed she sounds.

“Could you maybe hook me up with that red haired chick who played the second lead, cuz she was pretty hot,” she asks and laughs when Rachel looks disapprovingly at her.

“She has a boyfriend,” Rachel says after a moment, “And even if she didn’t she’d be out of your league.”

“Whatever,” Santana says and wonders why Rachel is looking at her like that.

+

Rachel asks if Santana wants to go out with them to celebrate the performance once they’re all changed out of their costumes and Santana says yes because she’s got nothing better to do. 

She gets the girl’s number and Rachel doesn’t talk to her for two days.

+

Rachel’s still sleeping on the couch, and it’s been so long now that Santana honestly doesn’t know what to do about it. 

She comes home late one night to find the lights down low and the sounds of two people moving against each other on the couch, and she slams the door a little louder than she strictly has to, just to let them know she’s there.

“Santana?” Rachel says in this breathy voice Santana’s never heard her use before, and Santana rolls her eyes because who the fuck else would it be.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your heterosexual mating ritual,” Santana says, too tired to really even insult her properly.

She’s just kicking her shoes off and heading for her room when the girl sticks her head over the top of the couch to look at her and say, “Heterosexual what?”

Santana drops her Chinese take out all over the floor, and she looks at Rachel as she sits up, at the one hand holding her shirt over her obviously bare chest as the other girl looks between them with a growing look of horror on her face.

“Shit, are you guys together?” the girl asks, and Santana just turns around and heads back the way she came.

+

She doesn’t go home for another three hours, and when she opens the door Rachel’s sitting on the couch alone with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a glass of wine in front of her.

They look at each other for a long moment, while Santana tries to think of what could even be considered a proper response to this, and in the end she just pads into her room and shuts the door, wondering if Rachel’s going to try and talk to her.

It’s about half an hour later when she thinks she hears footsteps outside her door, but Rachel doesn’t knock and she falls asleep thinking she must have imagined it.

When she gets up in the morning to find Rachel in the kitchen making pancakes, she doesn’t say anything and neither does Rachel, they just both eat their food and try to ignore how weird everything feels all of a sudden.

Rachel’s cleared away most of the dishes when Santana says, “So you’re into girls, then,” all casual, and Rachel turns to look at her.

“Not exclusively,” she says.

“Are you into that girl from last night exclusively,” Santana asks, and watches Rachel huff out a laugh.

“You’re an idiot,” is all she says before she drops the dishes and heads for the front door, but she doesn’t elaborate and Santana has no idea what she’s talking about.

+

Every time she wakes up for the next couple of days Rachel is already out of the apartment, and Santana knows she doesn’t have early morning classes every day so she figures Rachel is still mad at her for whatever it is she’s supposed to have done.

She sits on the couch and reads the New York Times on her computer while she drinks her coffee, and it takes her a while to admit even to herself that she misses Rachel’s ridiculous singing coming from the bathroom or the kitchen when she’s getting ready to face the day.

Rachel comes back just before lunch, dressed like she went for a run with her hair hanging down her back in a messy ponytail and Santana swears she actually tuts when she sees her on the couch, before she goes to grab some water from the kitchen.

“I’m going to shower and then I have class,” Rachel says and Santana just looks at her, wondering why she’s suddenly announcing her schedule.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Santana says and Rachel huffs in frustration.

“Unless you have anything else to say to me,” Rachel adds after a moment, folding her arms across her chest as Santana realises she’d been staring.

Santana has no idea what she’s talking about.

+

She’s not sure how it’s possible but living with a silent Rachel Berry is somehow worse than living with the singing version.

Rachel has this way of making silence deafening that Santana truly doesn’t understand, and they’re halfway through day two of shuffling past each other awkwardly and not making eye contact when Santana finally gives in.

“What’s your problem?” she asks when Rachel moves to leave the kitchen when she comes in.

Rachel just stares at her for a second and then gets up and walks away.

+

Rachel goes out without asking if Santana wants to go with her. She dresses in this short dress that Santana helped her pick out last month, and Santana’s gaze drifts down to her legs as she walks past the couch and heads for the front door before she can stop herself.

There’s definitely something wrong with her life if Rachel is going out dressed like that and she’s lying around on the couch in sweats watching an Everyday Italian marathon she’d dvr’d off the the food network at the weekend.

Whatever, Giada is cute okay and there’s no part of hot girls with food that she doesn’t like.

Later, she finds half a lasagna in the fridge, leftover from the last time Rachel bought it for her, and puts it in the oven to warm up, with the vague feeling that she’s forgotten something.

+

She’s fallen asleep on the couch by the time Rachel comes home and she wakes with a start when the door slams behind her.

“Santana!” Rachel shouts, swaying a little on the spot as she kicks her heels off by the door.

“What,” Santana groans, rubbing her hand over her face.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Rachel asks, coming round to stand in front of the couch and glare down at her.

From where she’s lying on the couch, all Santana can see is leg.

“Figured what out,” Santana groans, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

“You’re an idiot,” Rachel says, “And my friends said I’d be waiting forever if I didn’t just—” She cuts off and laughs. “This isn’t how I imagined this would happen.”

“How what would happen,” Santana’s saying, and then Rachel leans down and kisses her, her fingers finding the back of Santana’s neck and holding her still as her lips press against hers.

Oh.

Rachel’s fingers are warm on her neck, and Santana’s hands are on Rachel’s hips before she can stop them as the kiss deepens and she feels Rachel’s tongue brush against hers.

When Rachel pulls back the only thing Santana can think to say is, “I figured it out now,” and Rachel rolls her eyes so hard Santana thinks they might actually fall out of her head.

+

“I’m not sleeping on the couch tonight,” Rachel says, later, when she has one thigh either side of Santana’s as she straddles her lap and Santana’s got her hand under her dress, and Santana should have known there’d be a catch to all this.


End file.
